


sometimes it's a sad song

by abvj



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 19:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11881464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abvj/pseuds/abvj
Summary: Kat is on day thirty-nine in a post-Adena world, but she doesn’t allow herself to think about that.Wherein Kat tries to figure out how to handle this long-distance friendship with Adena and kind of fails miserably.





	sometimes it's a sad song

**Author's Note:**

> This was written based off the sneak peeks for 1x08. I wanted to get it posted before canon mucked it all up. All mistakes are mine, but these ladies are not.

The date is Jane’s idea. 

_Of course._

She is on post break-up day eleven and trying to act all nonchalant about it, doing a rather good job pretending she doesn’t miss Pinstripe, not even the tiniest bit. Sutton is also on post break-up day eleven but doesn’t even know how to pretend not to miss Richard. She initially rolls her eyes at the idea, but Kat can see the excitement lurking beneath the surface, and knows her friend is in desperate need of a distraction.

It’s a terrible idea, but Kat agrees, reluctantly, because that is what you do for friends. 

But also, maybe, because she is trying to prove something. 

Kat is on day thirty-nine in a post-Adena world, but she doesn’t allow herself to think about that. 

 

 

 

There is a brief span of time after Adena leaves for Paris when Kat thought maybe a clean break might be good for the both of them. 

Jane breathes the word _tragic_ like the whole mess was something poetic rather than just a mess and Sutton kept saying something about bad timing and speaking in stupid clichés that did little to ease this weird uncomfortable feeling in Kat’s chest. 

They get her stupid-drunk off of cheap wine and this really good gelato from the corner bodega. Kat cries a little and whines a lot about just how unfair the whole thing is, how the universe really is conspiring against her, and when she ends up sick in the bathroom, Jane holds her hair back and Sutton rubs her back. They tell her it going to be okay, to trust them that it will be okay, and Kat maybe sort of believes them, but also knows she has never felt this thing in her chest before, this fiercely tight constriction that leaves her almost breathless and is totally fucking scary and feels like it will never go away. 

In the morning, she wakes to a pounding headache in the base of her skill that makes her whole body ache and a mouth so dry it hurts to swallow. Her phone blinks at her, both blue and green, alerting her to a voicemail and two text messages. 

All from Adena. 

The first text is a picture of the airport, a black and white depiction of an empty terminal. 

The second text is just a single line: _just wanted to let you know I am here._

Kat chews on her fingernail as she types out, then erases, then types out again a reply that is somehow meant to construe both ambivalence and meaning. But she can’t find a combination of words that seem good enough. 

In the end, she settles on: _I’m glad. Be safe._

There are texts exchanged that first week. Pictures. Memes. Screenshots of whatever stupid thing Kat saw on the internet that reminds her of Adena. The frequency increases as time passes, but things are kept light out of a need for self-preservation and the knowledge that Adena left for certain reasons and Kat respects those reasons even if she doesn’t like them.

With time the burden in her chest lessens into an almost dull ache. One that Kat only ever notices when she finds herself struggling not to say the things she wants to say. When she sends Adena a video of these dogs playing in a pool and going absolutely nuts about it just because she thinks it would make her laugh, but what she really means, what she hopes Adena reads between the lines is _I really fucking miss you._

 

 

 

(She never does listen to that voicemail. 

Kat knows it holds some version of a goodbye she isn’t ready to accept.

So, it sits unanswered in her mailbox, a careful reminder of how quickly things can change.)

 

 

 

It works for a while – the whole long-distance friendship thing. 

Kat totally rocks it, actually. 

She keeps moving and working and working and moving. 

Tries her very best to forget that she met somebody who is wonderful and challenges her and makes her think and feel and then promptly lost it all in less than a forty-eight hour time period. For a while, Kat placates herself with exchanges in the form of texts and stupid photos and silly videos that she hopes hide the depth of her feelings and the hurt she feels every time she thinks of Adena in Paris, the city of love and epic romance, with someone who isn’t her. 

It is an easy thing to do, really, because Adena, for the most part, does the same. She texts Kat in the morning when she wakes up. At night before bed. Throughout the day when she is exploring the city. There are videos and memes and pictures sent her way too, and Kat finds herself imagining there is some sort of meaning hidden behind each one because whatever they shared, whatever spark that ignited and caught them both aflame, was felt by the both of them. 

Jane eyes her curiously every time they’re at lunch or in a meeting and Kat finds herself checking and re-checking her phone. 

Sutton, however, is the one to call her on it. 

“You sure that’s a good idea?” she asks one day. She has one eyebrow raised as she juggles a green juice and three coffees effortlessly. 

“What?” 

Sutton rolls her eyes and pointedly tilts her head towards the phone in Kat’s hand. “ _That_.” 

Kat laughs around the rim of her coffee cup, but it sounds forced even to her own ears. “What? We’re just friends.” 

“Just friends that are having an emotional affair? Yes. Just friends? Absolutely not.” 

“It’s totally fine. I get why she is there and I respect it. We are just friends. It’s all totally innocent.” 

Sutton opens her mouth to say something else, but Lauren beckons from across the way and there isn’t enough time. She mutters something about _just be careful_ over her shoulder and Kat’s grin is too wide as she says _always_ in return. It falls the moment Sutton is gone and here is the thing that nobody really knows about Kat – she is very good at pretending. It is a skill she acquired at a young age when she figured out that her parents were professionals at reading into things and investigated every sigh and look and comment made offhandedly ad nauseum. Kat became good at pretending everything was okay even though it wasn’t and hiding any overt emotion because discussing every little feeling she had was exhausting and that was all her parents ever wanted to do. 

And the pretending works very well for her – until it doesn’t. 

Until Kat is on a date with this super-hot guy that likes all the things she likes and catches the attention of literally every other woman in the room. Until she is on a date and all she can think about is someone who isn’t even on the same continent as her.

But she tries. 

Super-Hot guy talks a good game. Leans in real close when she talks to make her feel heard. Makes moves that she would have played into six months ago because everything about him says he would be good in bed. 

But everything about him does nothing for her now. 

So, she orders a drink. Then another. And another after that until the bartender gets the hint and just keeps them coming. 

Later, when they’ve changed venues because Sutton wants to go dancing, she lets Super-Hot Guy get close enough to kiss her and when he does she kisses him back. It’s nice, the kiss, and just as she expected he is really good at it. Yet the whole time his tongue is in her mouth all she can think about is Adena. All she can focus on is those hours they spent in her bed talking and laughing and kissing and how being close to her, being with her, always made something warm and fluttery fill her up until she was overcome with it in the best way. 

Super-Hot Guy’s hand presses into her hip, then her ass, and it just feels _wrong._

Suddenly, there is panic rising and mixing with bile in the back of her throat and her body acts without her permission. She shoves him away, ignores the calls from Jane and Sutton as she frantically pushes her way past sweaty strangers and towards the door. 

It’s only when she is outside, with the cool night air pressing into her skin that she feels like she can breathe again. 

 

 

 

The streets of the city are always filled to the brim with strangers, and Kat struggles to find an empty pocket of brick to lean against outside the bar. When she does find a space, a few feet down from the entryway, she drags her phone out of her pocket and dials the only other number she has memorized besides her parent’s. 

Adena’s voice is quiet, thick with sleep when she answers. A part of Kat should feel sorry for waking her up in the middle of the night, but that part of her is drowned out by the alcohol humming through her veins and the sound of her her heartbeat in her ears. She barely allows Adena to finish her _hello_ before she’s cutting her off and talking over her. 

“I think we need to say what we mean and mean what we say,” she says and is just the tiniest bit proud at how her words only slur just slightly. 

“Kat? What is… Are you…” There is the sound of movement, rustling fabric, and Kat closes her eyes, imagines her climbing out of a bed she shares with Coco, hiding herself away somewhere so they can talk. Something lurches in the pit of her stomach, but Kat ignores it. “Kat, are you drunk?” 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” she replies proudly, punctuating each word with careful enunciation. “And you know what else? I kissed a boy tonight. He was super-hot and super-smart and super in to me and I kissed him. And you know what else? I didn’t like it. Not even a little bit. It was a nice kiss and all, but I couldn’t enjoy it because I all I could think about was you.” 

“Kat—” 

“— All I think about is you. All the time. You’ve ruined me for other people and it’s not fair that you’re there and I’m here and we’re having an emotional affair—”

“— Kat, an emotional affair, what are you — ” 

“— That’s what Sutton called it, you know. She said we were having an emotional affair and she was right. She is so right. She is almost always right. She is so smart, that one.” 

“Kat.” 

Adena says her name, just once, like she was preparing to be cut off again, and it does something to her, the way she says it. It always has. Kat closes her eyes against the sound, listens to Adena's breaths over the line. She feels dizzy and overcome with something she can’t quite place and rests her forehead against the cool brick of the building in an effort to right herself. 

“I really fucking miss you,” Kat says quietly. “I want to tell you that all the time. It takes every ounce of energy I have to not tell you that all the time. Don’t you miss me that way?” 

“Yes.” 

Adena's voice is quiet when she says it, but the word is spoken without any hesitation. It breaks Kat’s reserve, just slightly, and when she’s talking again she sounds desperate and too loud, her voice cracking along the edges. 

“Then why are you there and not here? Why aren’t we together?!” 

“You know why,” Adena says softly. “You know why, Kat. I have some things I need to figure out. Coco —”

“— Does Coco know that you text me in the morning when you wake up? Before you go to bed? Does she know about that night?” 

The line is quiet for a beat. “No.” 

Kat laughs but it isn’t kind, but rather borderline hysterical. She curls her free hand into a fist and hits the brick wall with the flat edge of it. And then laughs even harder at how much it hurts. Then proceeds to do it again. 

“We are _soooo_ having an emotional affair, Adena. And it is so over. I can’t do this anymore. It’s not fair.” 

“Kat, I—”

Whatever she was going to say, Kat knows it isn’t going to be a version of the _you’re right, I’m coming home_ that she wants to hear, so she hangs it up. The anger hits her like a storm then – at Adena, at the situation, but mostly at herself – and suddenly she is curling her hand into a fist and hitting the brick wall square on. Lightly at first, then harder. The knuckle above her middle finger breaks open, spilling blood. It hurts like hell, but this hurt, this physical pain feels better than the visceral ache she feels over this whole mess with Adena, so she’s moving to punch the wall again when suddenly someone is behind her, their hand wrapping around her own. 

“Oh my god, Kat! What the hell?!”

It’s Jane, and her strength is surprising, even as Kat’s blood spills all over her fingers. There is a slight struggle to free herself of Jane’s grasp, but Jane doesn’t give in, and suddenly everything is spinning and Kat’s vision is blurring around the edges. She stumbles back a few feet, allows the brick at her back to carry some of her weight. Jane lets go, cautiously, and then suddenly Kat’s phone starts to ring and she digs around for it in her pocket before realizing it’s still in her hand. 

Adena’s name and face stare up at her and she is about to click the button to answer when Sutton is suddenly there and grabs it out of her grasp. 

“Not going to happen,” Sutton says and holds the phone high above her head where Kat can’t reach despite her best efforts at jumping. 

Kat only argues for a split second before she is throwing up all over her shoes. 

 

 

 

That night Kat dreams an uncomplicated dream of the future. 

They are in Adena’s bed, just the two of them in a small corner of the world, and it is like before with the whispers and laughing and an unspoken urgency, but it is also entirely different. 

In this dream, there is a promise hidden in the way Adena’s mouth moves against Kat’s. Laced in the way her fingers slip underneath cotton and against skin, moving up and up and up until they are dancing along Kat’s ribs, counting bones one by one. 

In this dream, Kat kisses Adena without hesitation or reservation and Adena kisses her back, unashamed, without thoughts of somebody else creeping into the corners of her mind. Their bodies move closer and closer until they are a tangled mess of limbs. Until Kat can feel Adena’s chest press against hers with every shallow breath, every sharp inhale. They kiss, exploring and learning one another until they go gloriously dizzy from lack of oxygen, and when they pull away it is only to catch their breath. There laugh softly at nothing at all, their foreheads slipping together. Kat finds herself reaching for her without hesitation, the tips of her fingers tracing the outline of Adena’s jaw before guiding her mouth back to her own. 

In this dream, the tension grows and intensifies in a familiar way, but they are unafraid and do not falter under the weight of it. Adena moves until she is above Kat, her body pressing Kat’s into the mattress. She fumbles with Kat’s shirt until it is over her shoulders, then the lace of her bra until it is tossed to the side. Adena takes her time touching every inch of bare skin, the soft curve of breast, the hard line of breastbone. She tells Kat how much she has missed her, how she dreamed of this while she was away in Paris, longed for Kat in a way she could never fully articulate into words. 

And all Kat can do is lay there and try to remember how to breathe and revel in the feel of warmth and affection and the sheer need and want that coils deep in her belly. 

In this dream, when Adena kneels on the bed and parts Kat’s legs to make room for her between then, the pressure of her touch is certain. She guides the jeans down Kat’s thighs first, then her panties, and when Kat is completely naked, Adena just kind of stares, taking in the sight before her with a soft smile playing across her mouth. The vulnerability of the moment causes a nervous energy to hum under Kat’s skin, and she looks away, presses her eyes closed. There is a joke, maybe, about taking a picture because it will last longer and to Kat’s surprise Adena just throws her head back and laughs. 

It sounds so good, Adena’s laugh, and Kat can’t help but open her eyes, watching as Adena’s whole body shakes with the movement and the edges of her eyes crinkle. 

Then she leans forward, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of Kat’s inner thigh. 

Murmurs, _that’s exactly what I just did. I will never forget this, Kat. You are forever imprinted on my memory._

In this dream, Kat feels her breath hitch at the intensity of the moment, feels the fierce constriction in her chest take hold then for one second, two second before loosening the moment Adena’s tongue slicks against her. 

In this dream, Kat comes loud and unashamedly fast with Adena’s mouth buried between her legs. 

And after, in this dream, when the world is still but the haze is lifting, she murmurs _I love you_ somewhere near Adena’s ear and Adena is laughing softly as she says it back. 

 

 

 

Morning is too bright, and the clink of glass against the solid top of the coffee table too loud. 

Kat opens one eye and groans. Sees Jane and Sutton staring at her trying not to look worried. She presses her eyes closed against the onslaught of light and tries to will the room to stop spinning. Sutton reaches out, grabs Kat’s hand and drops three ibuprofen into her palm. Jane nudges the glass of water closer. Kat follows their unspoken directions and takes the medicine with several gulps of water. When she’s done, they’re still staring. 

“It’s too early for this,” she groans. 

Sutton makes a face. “We’re worried about you.” 

Jane nods. “Like really worried.” 

“Don’t be.” 

Kat tries to push herself up on the couch, but doesn’t have the strength and just falls back down. The whole display does little to help her case. 

“Can’t help it.” 

“It’s our job.” 

“Yeah, and besides, you aren’t making a convincing argument as to why we shouldn’t worry.” 

“I’m –”

“ _Fine_ ,” Jane and Sutton finish for her in unison and it would have been comical if the shrill sound of their voices didn’t make her head hurt that much worse. “Yeah, we know. Except, again, you aren’t really making a convincing argument here, Kat.” 

Silence follows that rings in her ears. Jane and Sutton look at her both expectant and patient, despite the fact that they’re all late for work and with the layoffs looming they really shouldn’t be drawing attention to themselves by, you know, showing up late. Kat opens her mouth to talk about the bad influence of alcohol, make a joke and ask them to never let her drink that much again, but she’s too damn tired to keep up the façade. 

“My heart hurts,” she breathes, finally, and reaches up to the pinch the bridge of her nose when the tears burn at the corners of her eyes. “This totally fucking sucks and I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t.” 

Jane is the first one to reach out, to curl onto the couch next to Kat and envelope her in a hug. When Sutton follows suit Kat just kind of loses it. The tears fall and keep falling, silently at first and then with accompanying sobs that tear through the very core of her. Jane and Sutton hold her through it all until Kat is ready for them to let go. 

After, when they’re heading out the door for work, they cautiously hand Kat back her phone. 

“Just, you know, be careful,” Sutton says.

Kat nods, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. 

 

 

 

There are three missed calls and seven unread texts on her phone. 

She waits until she is safely at her desk, in her own space, before she looks at them. They are all a varying degree of _are you okay?_ and _call me back_. Each one is more frantic than the last. Kat spends most of the morning drudging through her work and contemplating what to say. How to respond. She’s embarrassed, and the sick feeling in her stomach from the alcohol and the way the tender skin of her knuckles keeps breaking open with each movement keeps fueling that embarrassment, but there is nothing she said that wasn’t true. 

The vital truth both she and Adena want to ignore is that there is another person involved in this relationship. A third party that is unaware of their feelings for one another, of the innuendo and subtext hidden behind every text message and phone call and cheeky photo exchanged. Kat finally allows herself to realize that she has been so desperate to keep Adena in her life, to have some viable connection to her despite the distance placed between them, that she has placed herself in the position of being the other woman. 

And that is not a person Kat is okay with being. 

She cares for Adena more than she has probably cared for anyone. She can admit that now despite being far too afraid of the mere idea of it all earlier. But she also feels a little bit like she is losing pieces of herself in the process. 

A part of her worries that if she doesn’t draw the line, if she can’t find the courage to say _enough for now,_ there will be nothing of her left. 

 

 

 

During her lunch break, she heads to The Closet and folds herself into a small corner, hidden by racks of designer dresses and necklaces that cost more than she makes in a month. Her thumb hovers over Adena’s name in her missed call list for at least two minutes. She finds herself wishing for Sutton’s quiet strength and Jane’s perseverance as she works up the courage to hit the button. 

The line only rings once. 

“Hey.” 

“ _Hi_.” 

“I’m glad to hear from you. I was getting really worried.” 

Kat sighs, the air leaving her in a shaky whoosh. She reaches out and rubs the tips of her fingers over the seam of a random dress. The fabric wrinkles under her touch. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t – I was drunk and I shouldn’t have called you like that.” 

“It’s okay.” 

Her voice is soft and kind and laced with worry and Kat can’t handle it. It makes her want her that much more, makes her long to be near her, to just be present in the same space with her. The frustration manifests and mounts inside her at the reality being so far from what exists in her dreams. There are things Kat wants to say, things she needs to say, and even though she doesn’t know how to say them, she pushes forward, starts talking before she can talk herself out of it. 

“Adena, look." She stops and draws in a breath, like she is preparing for battle before she begins again. "You should know that I was drunk, but I meant the things I said. I can’t do this anymore. You went to Paris to figure things out with Coco and I respect that. Even if I don’t understand how you can be with someone else when I know you feel something for me, I respect your decision. But I can’t be your friend right now. It hurts me too much and I can’t pretend like it doesn’t anymore.” 

“Kat, I —” 

“— There is nothing for you to say. And you should know that I’m not angry. Just really freakin’ sad.”

Adena sighs something heavy and Kat can feel the weight of it press into her shoulders, even with thousands of miles and an ocean between them. 

“Me too,” she breathes. 

They are quiet for a long time. 

 

 

 

Later that night, the three of them choose ice cream instead of alcohol as a method to drown their sorrows. 

Jane holds a heaping spoonful of mint chip up in the air and says, “To the ones that got away.” 

Sutton follows Jane’s lead and looks right at Kat when she adds, “And to the ones that find their way back.” 

Kat holds her spoon up, and clinks it with theirs in a mock toast as she makes a silent wish for the future. 

 

 

 

(There is a small number one still present just above the voicemail icon on her phone. 

Kat sees it a few days later and smiles a little to herself, hopeful now at the reminder of how quickly things can change.)


End file.
